


The Thread That Binds You

by Compoundeyes



Series: The Red Thread Of Baby BatCat [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 'Cause that's how I roll, Baby BatCat, BatCat, Destiny, F/M, Pre Baby BatCat Kiss, Red String of Fate, Red Thread of Fate, Took me ten minutes, implied future relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Compoundeyes/pseuds/Compoundeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t know it yet, but you’re connected. Not by anything you can see, touch or cut, but it’s as real as the blush tainting your cheeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thread That Binds You

**Author's Note:**

> This took me hardly any time to slap down, but it's been bouncing in my head since "Harvey Dent" and since the EP essentially said they're connected by fate. Plus, THEY'RE SO DARN CUTE! *smacked* I hope you enjoy this quick dribble, I don't even know why I did it. Might make edits later, might not care enough to, who knows? Baby BatCat FTW. :3

You don’t know it yet, but you’re connected. Destined. Bound to one another on levels you don’t realize.

 

And as you sit across from her, quietly eating breakfast together, you wonder why you feel like you’ve known her for your whole young life when it’s only been a week. That wild curly hair in disarray and eyes half lidded because getting up this early is new and uncomfortable for her, you can’t stop stealing glances and watching her when she’s not looking because you need to figure out why this—she feels so familiar.

 

Suddenly her eyes flick up to meet yours and your palms go clammy, a lump forms in your throat. “Why are you staring at me?” She asks sharply, a tone you’ve heard plenty of in these morning hours when she’s none too cheerful. You spout something about how you weren’t, how she just happened to look up right when you did, but that’s a lie and she knows it as well as you. She’s simply captivating in her own way and you can’t help it. Nor do you know why.

 

She eyes you suspiciously before turning back to the muffin on her plate, you pretend to look down as well, but really continue sneaking peeks at her. And you truly can’t help it, you’re drawn to her like she’s the “x” on the map.

 

You’re a bright boy, a genius, far beyond your years, and while it drives you insane that there’s something you can’t comprehend, a small part inside you begins to wonder if you just can’t understand yet. Perhaps when you’re older, you think, things will become plain and you’ll see why you felt this way. Whether it be that she was just foreign to your world and seemed fascinating or you were a twitterpated boy unsure of how to deal with a crush, perhaps years will bring clarity.

 

You’re right. Little do you know, you’re right. With the years you will come to understand your bond, you will discover its depths and you will be terrified by how much you love her. Don’t worry—she’ll be equally afraid, because she doesn’t want to trust you with her heart, no matter how much that heart begs her to. But you don’t need to know that yet, because your tie to one another is still fresh and immature, needing further exploration before making itself apparent.

 

She whips her gaze back up to yours, her jade eyes sharp and unrelenting when she says she knows you’re staring at her. “Seriously, do I have something on my face? Spill it, because you’re creepin’ me out!” You swallow and meekly apologize, assuring her you didn’t mean to stare, she has nothing on her face, you were just lost in thought. “Were you thinking about me?” Comes her question, sounding a bit less brash and maybe a little… hopeful. Surely not, your ears are lying to you. You don’t lie to her though, you tell her she was what you were thinking about, but are quick to add you weren’t thinking about her in an unsavory way, simply that you were trying to place if you’d met her somewhere before.

 

“Well duh,” She replies, “Of course you haven’t met me somewhere else. If you did, I guarantee you wouldn’t have trouble remembering it. I’m unforgettable.” Her smug smile makes you chuckle, and you know that’s just as true as anything. You nod, focus back on your half eaten banana nut muffin, let her words soak in. If you don’t know her from somewhere, how can you be so connected?

 

She makes a noise, not quite a word, not quite a hum, but a kind of a purr and you cautiously look back up at her to find she’s cupping her chin and leaning an elbow on her knee, mischief blazing in those eyes that constantly melt your resolve. Blinking, you squirm under her gaze, unsure of what she wants now or what she’s thinking. Luckily she doesn’t pin you for long, she reaches over and ruffles your hair before standing and sauntering off towards the door.

 

“Selina?” The syllables escape your mouth as if on their own. She pauses and looks over her shoulder at you, making your insides feel like a butterfly pavilion, and you don’t know what else to say. Her lips quirk into a smile, one that you’ll be seeing for a long time to come, one that speaks loudly but you’re not yet fluent in the language. You look away from her, the nerves you’re trying to learn control over failing you, and her giggles fill your ears as she strolls out.

 

You don’t know it yet, but you’re connected. Not by anything you can see, touch or cut, but it’s as real as the blush tainting your cheeks. A thread binds you together, and through it you will someday see that her smiles mean she thinks you’re adorable, her mischievous gaze is one that says she wants to kiss you, her defensive nature is what you make her question, her shell is twice as thick as yours because her heart is twice as fragile, and your hands are the only ones gentle enough to keep it yet strong enough to protect it. There will come a time when you will love her more than life and you will need her more than air. You’re too young to understand Fate’s thread now, Bruce, but you will. You will.

 

Someday.


End file.
